


Two Steps Forward

by justbreathe80



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbreathe80/pseuds/justbreathe80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, Rodney had had a couple of glasses of that Athosian beer stuff, which was stronger than regular beer, but not enough to be making shit up. Shit like John Sheppard asking him to dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Steps Forward

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom is becoming an addiction, and a way to totally procrastinate from all the holiday fics I have to write. YAY. Thanks to my darling fandom wife strangecobwebs for the beta, you are the BEST. *mwah*

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." Rodney said under his breath, crossing his arms across his chest and rolling his eyes.

"What?" John was trying to catch his breath a little bit, grinning and spinning Teyla around wildly. Teyla was laughing, trying to keep up.

"It's just - I didn't figure you for the dancing type," he said a little louder, catching John's smile before turning his head to look over at the small group of Athosians who were playing guitar-like instruments. It was a fast song, and he saw Ronon smiling too and dancing with tall, blonde botanist, Fischer he thought her name was. Zelenka had dragged Elizabeth out to the floor with everyone else, and she was a surprisingly elegant dancer.

Rodney's eyes fell back on John, watching him move, watching his whole body and face relax despite how fast he was moving and how hard the last two weeks had been. Four attacks by the Wraith, each one right after they thought they were in the clear. Most of them hadn't slept or eaten much the whole time, Rodney especially. But now, all the tension was gone from around John's mouth, and Rodney smiled in spite of himself, leaning back against the wall. He closed his eyes and let the sound of the laughter and the music swirl around him. He felt happy for the first time in a long time.

"Rodney?"

He jerked his head up and opened his eyes slowly. "Huh?"

"You want to dance?"

Okay, Rodney had had a couple of glasses of that Athosian beer stuff, which was stronger than regular beer, but not enough to be _making shit up_. Shit like John Sheppard asking him to dance.

"You can't possibly be serious." They were here with half of the staff of Atlantis, and almost all the Athosians, and John had only had one glass of the beer stuff. He was being crazy.

"Come on, Rodney, it's fun. Please?" John said, almost whining, and, god, Rodney couldn’t stand that. John's big, sad eyes, his outstretched hand, his pleading voice. Jesus. He’d do whatever John asked just to get him to shut up.

"Okay, okay, fine. But if you get booted out of the military on your ass, it's your own damn fault," Rodney said, sighing and clasping John's warm and, wow, okay, really soft hand in his.

"Whatever, come on." John was yanking him out onto the floor, and he stumbled a little bit before getting his feet back underneath him. Teyla was dancing with Lorne now, who was a godawful dancer, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, and Teyla was still smiling.

Rodney had no idea what to do, and the music was slowing down a bit, the musicians switching tunes. "Colonel, I don't -"

John's hands were on him: one on Rodney's waist and one in Rodney's left hand, pulling him close. Whoa. Rodney flushed from the proximity, but luckily everyone else had red faces from dancing like idiots, so he was probably safe. "Jeez, Rodney, just don't think so damn much. Just follow me, okay? Just follow me and the music. I won't let you look too stupid."

"What a wonderful consolation. Really, thanks."

"Any time," John said, smiling, and Rodney was stupidly grinning back before he could stop himself. "Okay, ready?"

"Sure, why not?"

And with that, John was moving, stepping forward (okay, John was leading, which was probably a good idea) and Rodney stepped back in response. John's hands were firm on Rodney, his fingers holding tight to Rodney's waist, slipping up underneath the fabric of his shirt as John pulled him around. The dance was pretty easy, just a couple of steps up from the slow-dancing at the few high school dances he went to, and he never danced with a gorgeous, brilliant pilot when he was fourteen, but otherwise just like that. Rodney surprised himself by picking it up pretty quickly, and when he was sure he wasn't going to crush John's toes, he looked up.

John wasn't smiling anymore, he was just staring at Rodney. "You're doing good. Really good."

"Thanks," Rodney answered, his voice low, and John was pulling him closer, his breath in Rodney's ear.

Rodney wished he could say that he was listening to the music and just enjoying the dancing, but all he could hear was his own heart pounding in his ears and John's heavy breath and nothing else. They were moving, and Rodney's hand was splayed on John's back, feeling the warm skin through the thin, worn fabric of John's t-shirt.

Suddenly, Rodney felt a hand on his forearm and he turned to see Teyla standing there. "Rodney, John, the song's over," she said softly.

"Oh," he said, and they were pulling apart, John dropping his hands from Rodney's waist and hand, and Rodney felt stupid and cold and he had no idea why.

"Uh," John said, looking at the floor. "We should probably get going, huh? It’s getting pretty late."

Rodney took a deep breath. "Yes. That sounds like a good idea."

"Very well," Teyla said, and she went to say her goodbyes to the Athosians and gather up those who were going back to Atlantis.

*****

John and Rodney got off the jumper together, and Rodney was about to turn around and tell John to please, god, stop following him already when he remembered that John had to go the same way Rodney was going to get to his own quarters. Maybe he was a little jumpy. John wasn't saying anything, and Rodney didn't even know what to say if he started talking.

When they got to Rodney's door, Rodney paused before going in and turned around. John's hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, and his eyes were darting. "Listen, Colonel, thank you for - well, thanks. I had a good time."

John looked up, almost startled. "Oh. Well, you're welcome. It was fun."

"I'll see you tomorrow then, at the staff meeting," Rodney said, and waved his hand to open the door. It slid open and he went to step through when he felt a hand close around his shoulder, holding him back. Suddenly, everything came flooding back: how John's hands felt in his hand, on his skin, how it felt to move with him like that.

"Rodney," John started, his voice cracking. "We didn't get to finish."

Rodney flipped around. "What are you talking about?"

John moved in a little closer, sliding his hand down Rodney's chest to rest on his waist, in the same spot. "Our dance. I know there's no music, but it didn't seem to matter too much the first time, huh?" He started to smile, and Rodney groaned. This was so stupid, so fucking stupid, and they were still in the hallway where anyone could see them. And wouldn't _that_ just be perfect after making fools of themselves at the festival. He was sure it had done wonders for John's reputation. He wanted to care, he wanted to tell John to just go and forget it, but he couldn't. So he did the next best thing, and grabbed onto John's shirt and hauled him into the room.

John must have been on board, because the door slid shut after them without Rodney doing a damn thing about it, and Rodney pressed him up against it, hard, hearing the impact of John's body against the door. "Sorry," he muttered, but John was smiling.

"No, you're not," John answered.

"Well, no," was all Rodney had a chance to come back with before John's hands were pushing up Rodney's t-shirt and getting to his skin, which was making him feel like he was going to come apart. Rodney put his hand on the back of John's neck and pulled him away from the wall and in, and pressed their lips together.

God, this was nothing like dancing, but they were moving together. John's lips were soft and his tongue was pushing into Rodney's mouth and it was so good, so damn good. Rodney hadn't even realized that he wanted this, really hadn't, but now he had no idea how he'd gone without it, without John pressed up against him from head to toe, without John's tongue fucking his mouth.

John's fingers were pressing into his shoulder blades, into his skin, and Rodney let his other hand drop down to John's ass and pull him in even closer. He felt John's dick hot and hard against his hip.

"John, wait," he said when he'd finally pulled away from John's mouth. They were gasping, and John's lips were wet and swollen, and he wondered if his own lips looked like that.

"What? Why?" John was trying to pull him in again, but Rodney put his hand on John's waist, and threaded the fingers of his other hand in John's left. He remembered the steps, and by the time they got over the Rodney's bed, John was laughing again and letting Rodney push him into the mattress. "Okay, okay. Yeah. Maybe you really are the genius you say you are," John said, panting and grinning.

Rodney started on his own clothes, and John just laid there and watched for a few minutes. "God," John whispered, and Rodney cursed his stupid fair skin and the flush that was taking over his whole body. "Wow."

John was an idiot, he wasn't making any sense, because people didn't say that to Rodney. Didn't watch him like that or say things like that or anything. It didn't make sense. People said things like that to John Sheppard.

Rodney watched as John pulled his shirt over his head, and Rodney couldn't help himself; he was crawling over John's body and thumbing open the button on his jeans, unzipping them, and dragging them down, feeling John's bare skin against his own. He ran his hands down John's chest, feeling the soft hair against his palms, the warm skin underneath. "It's really not fair," he whispered against John's neck.

"Huh?"

"You shouldn't be allowed to be this hot. I mean, spare some for the rest of us."

John blushed, and that was really, unbelievably endearing. "Whatever," John said, running his fingertips down the cleft of Rodney's ass. Jesus.

"Right, yes, whatever...I'm sorry, where were we?"

"Well, I think we were about to have sex, but correct me if I'm wrong."

Rodney moved his head and mouthed along John's jaw. "God, I hope you're not wrong..."

"Rodney, shut _up_." So he did, kissing John again, trying to keep from shaking at how good it felt to be naked and on top of John in a bed, and they were moving with each other here too, lips and teeth and tongues, and Rodney could feel John's cock hard and wet against the hollow of his hip. They had a good rhythm, the kiss turning slow and deep and hot, Rodney's hands firm on John's hip as he thrust against the soft skin at John's belly, over and over again.

When it got to be too much, too hard to breathe, Rodney buried his face in John's neck and kept moving, the skin of his cock sliding against John's skin just right, perfect. John was moaning and murmuring something that Rodney had to strain to hear.

"God, yeah, please, come on, _come on_.”

Rodney pushed his hand between them and wrapped his fingers around John's dick, and apparently John was closer than he let on, because he whimpered at the touch and came, all over his own belly and Rodney's fingers, spurting again and again, and wow, that was impossibly hot. Rodney kept himself raised up on one hand so he could see. "Wow," he whispered.

"God, Rodney," John said, going limp against the mattress. Rodney couldn't wait anymore, and used John's come to start stroking himself, a slow, steady rhythm that he knew would be right. John's eyes were wide open and cast down, watching them, watching Rodney jerk himself off "Come on me."

Rodney let out a long moan, because, god, that was hot, and twisted his hand, and he was coming, yes, all over John, making a bigger mess of him than he already was, but who cared, it didn't matter at all. He dropped down to rest his head on John's chest, which was completely sticky, but he'd come his very big, very expensive brain out all over John, and he couldn't even think about moving.

When he came to, John was stroking his hair, and god, that felt nice, that felt fucking fantastic actually, and he pushed up into John's hand. "Slut," John whispered.

"Yeah, that's me. Clearly."

Rodney glanced over at the clock, and it was almost 5 AM, and John probably shouldn't stay here, it wasn't _smart_. "Do you need to go?"

John paused. "Mind if I stay?"

"No," Rodney said. He hadn't expected that. He'd expected a full-blown gay military panic, and instead, John _wanted_ to stay. "That sounds - good. Yeah."

John pulled Rodney closer. "Besides, I still have to prove to you that I _am_ the dancing type, and we only have four hours before we have to be in Elizabeth's office."

"I see. Well, then, I can get the music." Rodney felt John's smile against his hair, and forgot about the damn music again, because John was pressing him back into the mattress and sliding off the bed. He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of Rodney, looking up and still smiling, then he ran his hands up Rodney’s thighs.


End file.
